by Elsa Johnson
The buck
Came trotting up my sidewalk
fast
nose to the ground
nostrils wuffling
swerved
just before the porch steps
– at the top of which
I was standing –
glanced up
and back down
fast
as if to say:
‘Human
at this moment
you are not remotely
important to my life’
and hustled on
too obsessed
to be flag-ish
One track mind
ten point sex
drive
The nose knows
what counts
Wonderful “buck” poem. I also thought “Day of the Dead” was an amazing blend of personal and universal. LWM